Lately, perhaps in premonition of what was to come, I’ve been thinking a lot about bike accidents. I couldn’t help but notice how almost every person I know who rides with any kind of regularity has been in a bike accident. My running friend Angela was hit by a car, my yoga instructor Bernie messed up his leg i na crash too. I kept thinking that, sooner or later, all “real” cyclists are going to wreck. It’s just the hazard of tooling around town on two wheels with no protective outer shell. (Like the other day, when my car spun out in the rain. I was totally fine, because I wasn’t ejected over the steering wheel like I was on my bike.)
But now I have crashed. I’m a “real” cyclist. I survived a crash relatively unscathed, though this is certainly the most life-altering injury I’ve ever sustained. And I’ve learned a lot, most importantly that I’m not invincible, that I should slow down when I need to (or, ahem, when giant yellow signs tell me to).
I’m eager to get back on my bike–I think I’ll be a little timid at first, but the benefit to being in an accident that you yourself caused is that I know I won’t let it happen again. I can control that. (Of course if I ever do get hit by a car, that will probably be another story…)
One of many downsides, however, is the fact that I seem to be detoxing from my pain medication. This is the medication I couldn’t even feel working. I stopped taking it last night. Today I wake up with much less pain (yay!) but lots of shakes. Thanks for nothing, Tylenol 3.